In her children's eyes
by rooni
Summary: (first ff attempt)Jeff Tracy tries to trace what remains of his wife in his children(not very good summary ,i know)
1. Default Chapter

**In her children's eyes**

Disclaimer:all characters in this story are the property of Gerry Anderson and i own nothing

a special thanks to mcj for allowing me to borrow some material from her

Today is Alan's birthday. In a few hours we will all be downstairs to eat breakfast and I am sure the boys will pretend to forget just to annoy him. I do not know what I will be doing or how I will react, I know I am supposed to act cheerful today, but I need time to grieve. That is why I am awake at the crack of dawn, a scotch in my hand, an album in my lap and sitting in the balcony where I can see the sea and the last of the evening stars. And feel the mists of memories that never fade. Today maybe Alan's birthday, but it is also Lucy's death day. Lucy, my beautiful angel, who died giving birth to my wild child Alan.

In a moment of insanity after her death I did something that I regret until today. I either burned or tore every picture of her in this house, save one, our wedding picture. But I don't need pictures to see Lucy, she is always in my heart and all I need is to close my eyes and I see her there, shining down on me. I might not have Lucy's pictures, but I have our sons' and when I look at them, I see Lucy looking back at me. She is there, in all of their pictures and for that I am glad, at least most of the time. I tighten my grip on the photo album in my lap and take a quick sip of the scotch. I am getting ready for my yearly journey down the memory lane and I know it is going to take every ounce of courage I have. I open the album at the first picture.

When I first look at Scott's picture, I see myself when I was younger. I see the same unruly black hair and sapphire blue eyes. I may not see Lucy right away, but she is there, she has to be. After all Scott was our first son. Scott got from his mother the two qualities that define him the most. His seriousness and his incredible ability to listen and provide comfort. That is when I see Lucy in Scott's eyes. When he is listening to one of my problems with his head resting on his left arm, his eyes deep in concentration and his usually clear forehead creased with worry lines. Yes, Scott is so like his mother then, I knew it years ago when she died and it was he, barely nine years old, who took me into his arms and stroked my back. When I was too depressed to look after Alan, he gave him his bottle and rocked him to sleep. You turn your back for a minute and he grows ten more years emotionally and mentally. If I had to use only one sentence to describe Scott, it is he is my shoulder to lean on and my right hand to work with. I turn the page.

When I look at John, I still don't see Lucy. Instead I see the blonde locks and crystal clear blue eyes of my father. Yet when John sits on the window sill, looking into space with a tear falling down his cheek, I remember how he is so like his mother. John is the most sensitive of my children and I know why. I think that John is the only person who ever loved Lucy as much as I did and the day she died, she took the part of his heart, that allows him to live with others , away. I see Lucy in John's eyes when he is sad and lonely. He sits in the armchair the same way she used to, with his knees up to his chin and his arms wrapped around his legs. I see her when anyone of us has wronged him and his lips quiver with agony and betrayal. The one thing that comforts John in the world was one of Lucy's favorite things. John finds his comfort in the sky, the space, that planets, the stars. He is most peaceful when he is sitting on the roof of our house, staring through a telescope into oblivion. He sits then, still the same way his mother used to, crossed legged on a cushion, his arms holding the telescope gently and with care. And I know why. It was his mother's. Once, as a child, John was asked to draw a picture of his mother and he drew a picture of a star and wrote under it "my mother, the brightest star in heaven". John is the part of me that can never forget Lucy, maybe because I believe she is a star , up there some where, looking over me. I turn the page.

Once on Halloween Virgil decided to dress up as a girl and when I saw him, I nearly had a heart attack. Give the boy a wig and a dress and he is magically transformed into his mother, He has the exact same curly chestnut hair and hazel eyes. I can't lie , sometimes it pains me to look at Virgil, but it is not just his face that scares me. It is his hands. Virgil's hands , just like his mother's were, almost always smeared with paint of different colors and textures. When his fingers are not dirty and painting, they are clean and playing the piano. When Virgil plays the piano I remember the days when Lucy and I would wait till the kids were asleep then sneak into the living room, giggling like thieves breaking into our own house. Then I would lie down on the couch and she would sit by the piano and play us a tune. Her eyes used to glow with beauty and pride when she played, and now I see that exact same look in Virgil's eyes. I see them light up and sparkle and I see Lucy's shy, eager smile slowly creep on to his face. The face of an artist. Virgil is his mother in many ways , but he tries to subdue this effect, mainly to keep my sanity. While John is the part of me that will never forget Lucy, Virgil is the part of me that helps me remember her the way I want to and for that I would be a liar if I said that Virgil doesn't have a special place in my heart. Actually I would be a liar if I said it about any of my children, but Virgil's part is closer to the center. I turn the page.

When Gordon was born, both Lucy and I were a bit speculative about him being our son, actually we were almost certain that he must have been switched at birth. With his flaming red hair and shining green eyes, he looked like no one on either side of the family, but DNA tests assured us that he was our son and our hearts too assured us of so.

Gordon may never know it , but he is so like his mother. Like her, Gordon is a leader and life lover. Back when she was young, Lucy earned a medal for keeping her mind straight and saving herself and four of her classmates who were stuck in a blizzard. Gordon has done a similar thing a few years ago, when he earned a medal for saving a few drowning children. You might say that anyone would do that, but there are smaller things in life that make me see Lucy in Gordon's eyes. He is full of mischief and derives great pleasure from a good laugh that reminds me of how precious Lucy saw every moment of life was. Gordon knows it the best , as his mother did, as they have both been in near death situations. Gordon is our leader in things that add simple joy to our life. Whether it is something as silly as singing carols in Christmas or going camping in spring, it is always Gordon who pushes us into enjoying ourselves. Gordon is the part of me that still loves life without Lucy. I see her in his mischievous smile when ever he is coming up with a plan and whatever the outrageous plan is, I follow it. Lucy would have wanted that. I turn the page.

While everyone agrees that John looks like my father, everyone practically swears that Alan must be my father's reincarnation. John may have taken his physical features, but Alan has also taken his spirit. Most people sat that Alan has nothing from Lucy, but I know that they are wrong. It is only because they don't know Lucy as intimately as I do that they can not see it. I see it almost everyday in his behavior, in his essence and I think I can best call it his pride and temper.

Alan is the one person in this house that if he is mad or angry, no one can rest. Some would say that we spoiled him, but it is not that. Sometimes, on days like this, I want to blame someone for what happened to Lucy and involuntarily my mind drifts to Alan. He can make a small, stupid mistake and I would explode at him. At that moment I would see Lucy in Alan's wide, shocked eyes that slowly become harder and you can practically sense the anger building within him. Alan may have a shorter fuse than Lucy but their anger is the same. It rocks the house and makes the other boys beg me to apologize and I always eventually do. Alan's pride is so like his mother's, masking the hurt and pain behind a curtain of anger. He holds up his head in the same way she used to and like she I can see the glinting tear of sorrow under the piles of wrath. Sometimes I fear that I have driven Alan away from me. Outside of home he is known for being a social animal and always being able to adopt to any circumstances with a smile very much like Gordon's, but the moment he steps in the house he becomes quiet and silent. I see Lucy in Alan's purest emotions of anger, hate, hurt, love and appreciation. He is the last thing that Lucy has given me and I try my best to keep him close to my heart. Alan is the only one who has never felt Lucy's warm, comforting embrace, but he gets it from all of us we try to compensate his loss, as he has lost the most by not knowing her. Alan is the part of me that will never get over Lucy's death, but it accept it reluctantly. I close the album and stare as the now bright sky.

It took me a few years after Lucy's death to decide what to write on her tombstone " Lucy Marshall Tracey. Devoted wife of Jeff Tracey and beloved mother of Scott, John, Virgil, Gordon and Alan. Go my bright star and angel to where you shall rest, for you have left with me pieces of your heart that shall be my own comfort ". I have taken my time to grieve today and I will try to act as a rested man. I open my door and I can already hear my children

I pass Virgil as I go down the stairs, where he is hunched with that sparkle in his eyes as he professionally wraps Alan's gift. I enter the kitchen to see John sitting at the table with his knees up to his chin, discussing a problem with Scott, who is sitting with hid head resting on his left arm. I see Gordon teasing Alan , with that mischievous smile on his face, asking innocently why Alan looks so gloomy. I see Alan trying to mask his disappointment with a carefree look. Virgil comes down and my children all turn to face me, an implicit question on their faces. I smile and I see the look of relief in their eyes. Yes, Lucy, today I am a rested man as I have taken my time to grieve, but it is not just the grief that has released me. It is seeing you all around me, in the faces of our children as we sit down to eat breakfast. Their chatter is you, their expressions are you, their gestures are you and their souls are you. I turn to Alan and put my arm around his shoulder and say " Happy birthday ,son". He doesn't mask the tear of happiness and sorrow that slips down his cheek as he hugs me tightly. I feel my own tears clouding my eyes as I grip the back of his shirt. He may have never felt your embrace, Lucy, but I swear he hugs just like you.


	2. just a question

Hi! First of all I'd like to thank Kitkat Tictac(my first ever online reviewer)& Tanwen Micara & mcj( 4 more than one reason which she knows)….I was first planning on keeping this a one-shot thing ,but I'm really in the mood to continue( with the moments Jeff best sees his wife in his children) . So to my readers, do you prefer that I post the stories in chronological order( most probably will be john, Scott, Virgil, Alan ,Gordon) or would you rather I did it by age like I did in the first chapter( going from Scott to Alan ….but I feel that this way will lose some meaning). I prefer the first way but I want to know what you think.

Thanx a lot

Hope you had a merry Christmas and have a wonderful new year

rooni


	3. In john's eyes

First of all I'd like to say that I'm not really so loyal to either story line(didn't watch the movie and watched the series last time like 11 years ago )…so here are things as they will be in my storyline( I hope this doesn't upset anyone). According to memory and research the family line goes Scott-John-Virgil-Gordon-Alan….I sometimes get confused whether John or Virgil is older, but I'll stick to John being older unless someone can confirm to me otherwise. Ok, so here we go:

At the time of Lucy's death Scott was 9, John 7, Virgil 4, Gordon 13 months and Alan 0, but their birthdays are the same as according to thunderbirds online

So the first of the stories will be taking place in that age frame ,as it happens shortly after Lucy's death( all the stories are flash backs…well except that last chapter, but you'll have to wait to see that)…so here it goes

Night has crept in and I head into the garden to take a little stroll. The wind feels cool and refreshing to my face as I walk silently with my hands tucked in the pockets of my windbreaker, protecting myself from the harshness of the March nights. Then I see him. Sitting there on the grass with a note book, in which he is taking notes and a telescope to his left, in which he occasionally glances.

John.

From the moment he was born I knew he was different

From the moment I glimpsed his blue eyes that were just a shade lighter then mine I knew it.

But I was wrong about one thing.

I thought he'd be like my father. Tough. Hard. Unbreakable.

While in fact he is just the opposite. Soft. Sensitive…….Lonely.

Yet he is still different.

He is special.

When I look at him, I realize that I saw it right away.

I saw it in the moment I caught sight of his eyes.

Stars…..His eyes are full of them

And when I see the stars twinkling in his eyes, I remember Lucy.

And I remember the day he feels in love with the sky.

**In John's eyes: a graveside story**

It had only been a week and I was already feeling like it had been a life time . At the beginning I was merely sad and angry , but after the funeral I fell into shock. I think it was the fact that she was in box 6 feet below the surface that made me realize the finality of what happened. I came to realize what her death truly meant. I would no longer see he cheerful hazel eyes. I would no longer be able to stroke her lively chestnut hair. I would no longer feel the softness of her cheeks as I wiped the tears that sometimes fell from her eyes. I would no longer smell that simple lavender scent that she always wore. I would no longer hear her playing our song or laughing her heart out. It was over. She was never coming back

The kids, except Scott, didn't really realize what was going on. Virgil thought it was just one of mommy's long trips to far away lands and Gordon didn't comprehend anything…just that the hand that rocked him , changed him , and fed him his food was different. John was another story. I think that though he was too young to understand the funeral service, something in his heart told him that this wasn't one of mommy's normal journeys abroad…..he sat by the window for hours at an end, just waiting. His small button nose was continuously pressed against the window in the living room. I think he realized that something in the atmosphere of the house was different. I was rarely home, and even when I was I know that I was distant and absent minded and all I did was lock myself up somewhere to be alone. Scott locked himself up too, in Alan's room for hours, especially when I was gone. The house was like a grave yard. There was no sound, except of tears. Tears of babies crying to be changed or fed. Tears of children hurt but not knowing why they felt so. Tears of a grown man, dwelling in the past , wishing he could retrieve it. Tears caused by the absence of the same person. Lucy. She was gone.

I hated sleeping in our room because every where I looked I saw memories. The bed was still covered with clothes I had tossed out in our hurry to get to the hospital; her nightgown that she was wearing that night was folded carefully and laid on the chair of her dresser….so like her, that organization. Her dresser was covered with her favorite fragrances and makeup. Her wooden carved jewelry box was sitting there, opened, and filled with simple, elegant jewels. I could spy her flowered pearl ring that I gave her for our third anniversary. I could see her set of birthstone rings, as she had one for each member of the house. I could see my Garnet, John's opal, Virgil's peridot, Scott's Diamond and Gordon's amethyst. Alan's would have been an aqua marine……..would have been.

When a person tries to forget sometimes it is the little things that make it harder. Seeing pieces of her scattered all over the room was just the tip of the iceberg, the real problem was all over the place. Every place I went, I saw her. Every smell I smelled seemed to carry some lingering scent of her own. The children…..just hearing their presence was torture. I decided to take a step towards ending this pain. A step only a desperate person would take and a step with a more devastating result than I thought possible….it all started with the burning of the pictures.

I did it in our room. I picked every picture and tossed them in a cooking pan. Pictures of us dating, of our engagement party, pictures with the kids. All of them went in there and, with the single stroke of a match and some gasoline, evaporated.

The next step consisted of stashing all her private possessions away and giving them up. Perhaps to friends or to charity. I threw the doors of her closet open, my eyes flooding with tears, and stripped all the hangers of her clothes and threw them on the bed. I strode to her dresser and with a single motion swept all the items on it to the floor, her makeup containers breaking and staining the floor and her jewelry box breaking open, releasing its contents. I fell to the floor, my legs no longer capable of carrying my weary body that shook with violence and my hot tears broke through the dam of my eyes and suddenly I heard the door to the room opening. I turned my head slightly to see john there, holding his stuffed star tightly to his young chest.

John's eyes widened at the sight of the hurricane struck room. His young feet carried him to my side as he stood still and then raised his hand to my cheek to wipe away a falling tear. The act hurt me even more as his touch was like that of hers and I cried harder at the thought…I realized I would never be able to forget.

"Daddy", the low childish voice spoke, biting down his lip and a look of hesitation in his eye. I lifted my head to meet his gaze." Yes, Johnny?" I asked my voice haggard and weak. He looked even more hesitant now but said something to be that seemed no more than a whisper.

"Sorry, Johnny, I didn't catch that"

"Where's mommy, daddy?"

Silence.

I tried to compose myself. I tried to think of the best way to answer, but I couldn't. My mind was too foggy.

"She's gone Johnny. She's gone"

"When will she be back?"

"She won't be….she's gone….she has left us"

"Mommy wouldn't do that….she'll be back"

The anger that was ebbing inside of me inflated and grew. I could no longer contain the despair that was growing within me. I felt anguished and desperate. I held a startled Johnny by his shoulders and shook him with all my strength.

"SHE ISN'T COMING BACK, JOHNNY……SHE IS NEVER COMING BACK…." I screamed at his face and stared at his tearful shocked eyes as he broke free of my grasp with all his strength. The look in his eyes, a look of utmost betrayal, regained to me some of my senses. I reached out to hug him saying" I'm sorry, Johnny, I just….." Before I managed to complete my words the young boy turned on his heels and ran out of the room.

I watched after him, fresh tears springing from my eyes as I rose quickly to my feet to follow my son, but was stopped at the door way by Scott. He barred my passage with his arms with a look of disappointment in his eyes." I think you should leave him for a while" he said in a hushed tone as not to arouse the sleeping children. I fell against the wall in the hallway and slid to the ground, breaking once again into fervent tears, my face buried in my hands. I felt another figure sit down beside me and felt Scott's arm creep around my shoulder and pulling me to his already mature, strong chest. "It's okay to cry, daddy. It's ok to open up, daddy. I'm here." He whispered as he cradled me like a child and slowly I calmed down and in the arm of my oldest son found my first rest for weeks and slipped to the temptation of sleep.

I woke up later in the night to find myself sleeping on the floor of the hallway with Scott by my side. He had changed positions sometime before so that he was resting against my chest rather than me on his own. I carried him gently, looking at his tear stained face, and toke him to his and John's room. I put him down on his lower bunk of their bunk bed then looked at the upper bunk to check on John. The sight that greeted me spread a wave of coldness and fear within me.

The bed was empty.

"I'll try to be home as quick as possible" I said to Mrs. Mackenzie, our next door neighbor who came over as fast as possible. The hour was past one am and I had no idea of the possible hour in which Johnny left. I had to be quick, he could be anywhere and he could……a twinge of fear spread down my spine as I tried to evade the thoughts that were attacking my mind. He was safe. I was sure of it. I was trying to convince myself I was sure. I told myself Lucy would be watching over him.

After I called the police and they told me their usually line that I can't file a missing person's repot before 24 hours, I got into my car and waved to Scott and Mrs. Mackenzie , who stood by the front door. Scott had wanted to come with me, but I managed to convince him that he was better needed elsewhere. I drove all over the town in which we lived, just outside New York City, where my business was. I went to every possible place I could think of; I checked every hiding place with 2 miles of our house. Nothing. Not a trace. Tears flooded down my cheek as I find myself driving as if guided by some exterior force and the stopped as I realized where I was. The graveyard.

My body shivered as the early April wind swept over me as I left the car. I walked in the quiet night, hearing nothing but the crunch of the dried branches of trees underneath my shoes. I walked under the clear, star lit sky with a destination in mind and my heart aching and tearing within my chest. What would I tell Lucy, that I lost one of our children? That my grief blinded me of my responsibilities and that till now I hadn't carried Alan once? That I was trying to forget her rather that cherish her memories? That I had burned all her pictures and that her children would probably grow, not knowing the look of her face. I found myself in front of her grave and there I was met by a surprise. For lying there, cuddled in a jacket, was John.

A wave of relief spread through my body as I crept towards his sleeping figure, trying not to awaken him, but it seemed he wasn't even asleep as he got up as soon as I was 10 feet near him. He sat up, leaning against her bare tombstone that bore only her name and mine and our sons. He looked at me, fear in his eyes as he held his stuffed toy tightly against him. I got down to my knees by his side and combed his soft blonde hair away from his eyes." I was scared that I lost you too, Johnny" I said, my voice overcome by grief and relief. His lips trembled as he broke into tears and threw himself against my chest. I cradled as his brother did to me just hours before. I cried with him, expressing the mutual grief that we felt.

"She isn't coming back, is she daddy?" he asked his head buried in my jacket. I stroked his back and replied in a soft tone unlike that I used earlier" no Johnny, she isn't". He cried harder, his entire body shaking with it." And I didn't get to say goodbye" he wailed, trying to regain his breath that was lost in his heavy weeping. I held him more tightly than ever, realizing that I also had never said the proper goodbye that I would have said if I knew I would never see her again. "You can always say goodbye when you want to, Johnny. Mommy will always hear you" I said, not believing my own words myself. He pulled away from me, a new look of hope in his eyes, a look that tore at the root of my heart." How?" he asked and I was trying desperately to find an answer. I opened my mouth to explain but he interrupted me" please tell me how daddy, cuz I miss mommy a lot", he said it in such a pleading tone that my heart sank more and more.

" please daddy tell me how cuz I miss Mommy" he sat silent for a moment then added" I miss you too, daddy". His words left my dumbfounded. "What do you mean by that, Johnny boy?" I asked surprised by his comment. He looked worried that he said something wrong, but then a look of determination crossed his face, a look very much like his mother's and continued" you're never home anymore , daddy. And even when you are, you never play with us anymore, or eat with us anymore or talk with us anymore." I tried to explain my self" son I've been very busy lately"

"You were never this busy when mommy was around" he exclaimed.

" I know Johnny, but things come up and I need to spend more time at the office" It was an outright lie and somehow he knew it, because a look of betrayal and sadness crept into his eyes." You're not saying the truth daddy. We call you at the office all the time and your secretary always says that you didn't even come" he said this with an accusing look in his eyes. I was shocked; I never knew that the kids called me at the office." Why? I mean you can always talk to me when I'm home." I said." Daddy, that's the whole point, even when your home you don't listen. Did you know that Scott was suspended from school yesterday, that Virgil cries every night from nightmares? That Alan has rash and Gordon asks for you all the time. Did you daddy? Did you know that Scott drinks coffee now so that he can stay awake to feed Alan, did you?"

I sat dumbfounded, more than ever before. I couldn't believe that I had been that neglective. "I'm sorry Johnny" but I knew my apology wasn't enough. "Why daddy? I just wanna know why?" I looked into my son's eyes , as for the hundredth time that day my tears fell" I miss your mother Johnny and sometimes it's hard to go to house that doesn't have her love". He sat silent for a moment then he held my hand" Daddy, you know that me and my brothers love you, don't you?" I nodded in response." Then why don't you come home to our love", he asked the question with a look of sincerity in his eyes as he placed his hand to my heart. A look of love so powerful that I almost felt that Lucy was speaking through him, telling me what I had to do.

I broke into a wet smile as his words reminded me that I still had the children

That I hadn't lost everything. Then, as I looked at his hand, I realized that I had the answer to a question he asked earlier." You know what Johnny, no matter what ever happens , mommy is still his us" I tapped his hand then placed my own on his heart." She's in our hearts, where she'll always be because of all the love she has given us, she's always watching over us". John looked up at me "daddy is mommy a star?" I looked perplexed at his question and he rushed to explain himself" in a movie I was watching one of the characters said that stars are our family that have passed away looking over us". I was touched by his simple explanation and I lifted him up to sit in my lap and pointed to Polaris, the northern star" you see that star Johnny boy, that mommy. It's the brightest star in heaven". he looked at my a look of happiness in his face as tears fell" that way I'll know that when ever I go to sleep mommy will be there

To check that I'm tucked in." I felt a lump form in my throat as I nodded then pulled him closer to my chest as we fell silent. Within five minutes he was a sleep, and then as I did for his brother before, I carried him in my arms, to my car.

From that day on, I usually came home on time after work. I always took time to spend with the kids. I finally got the courage to call my mom and ask her to stay with us. A request I knew she was waiting for and that she cried when I asked, because she knew it meant I was moving on. Until she manages to come I know that I have duties to look after and take care of. What happed taught me many things, but it still saddens me that I have burned Lucy's pictures; I despise myself for my selfish act which will punish the children and me. No one knew I did it, just John.

A few days after the mother's arrival, I returned home to find a gift wrapped on my desk. I approached it, gently taking the childishly wrapped paper off of it and felt tears in my eyes as I saw what it was. It was a picture of our wedding. I, in my sharp black tuxedo, had my arms around Lucy's slim waist, clad in her beautiful full length white dress. We were both smiling like crazy, a beautiful curly strand of hair framing her beautiful face. I touched the picture longingly. "Do you like it?" my mother's voice startled me "yes, but where did it come from?" She looked at me as though I was crazy "you do remember that I have a copy of the wedding picture don't you? Johnny just reminded me to bring it along". My heart grew warm at the thoughtful gesture of my son and I knew just how to repay him.

I hid it in his bed so that he wouldn't discover it till night time. I heard him shriek with pleasure as he found it and came running to me, his eyes full of amazement." For me?" he asked holding up his mother's burgundy telescope. I kneeled down " yes, Johnny. But promise me to take good care of it…it was your mother's you know" I knew I didn't have to tell him to take care of it. I knew, with that starry look in his eyes, that he would guard it with his soul. Still he looked into my eyes, a smile on his lip " I promise ". then he rushed up to the roof and sat there for a few minutes. He sat on a cushion he grabbed on his way up and crossed his legs just like Lucy used to. I stand there watching him like I used to watch her as he plays with his toy , a toy that would soon determine the rest of his life. I smiled as a tear slipped as I realize I did the right thing. Lucy would have wanted him to have it.

The End

AN: so what do you think?? Is it like totally unrealistic or did you manage to swallow it? Tell me what you think

Next up will hopefully be Scott's and I'm thinking of starting a new story hopefully .

To my reviewers:

First of all thanks to all those who read and an extra thanks to all thsoe who took the extratime to comment on my writing

Britanniaire: actually i'm not from an english speaking country at all ,plus don't worry the last chapter was just the question

Thanks Daria4 for pointing out my horrible mistake, i'll fix it as soon as i can but i'm on the run now

thanx to all the rest(ColorRado u better update ur story soon)


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